A Doctor of Ice and Fire
by The Professor of Writing
Summary: The Doctor and his companion Martha arrive in Winterfell, home to the Starks. They soon discover that all is not as it seems. When Ned takes the Doctor with him to King's Landing, and Martha is forced to stay behind, the duo find themselves caught up in the Game of Thrones. Book One in the Game of Time Saga
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**__**If it was mine, why would it be on here?**

**Author's note:** **This story takes place during the first book. Apologies for it being a little vague and different at some points, but who cares? It's fanfiction.**

CATELYN

Catelyn Stark, Lady of Winterfell walked out into the cold grey courtyard. Her husband, Eddard, was sparring with their son Robb. Robb was fifteen and tall, broad of shoulder and strong of arm. But even strength had to bow to strategy, a lesson that her lord husband was teaching the boy today. Their next eldest son, Bran, sat on the edge of the stable roof, cheering gleefully as they clashed. Catelyn's heart filled with a mother's fear at that moment, but she decided against calling him to come down. He never did. Dour-faced Theon Greyjoy was firing arrows at a target nearby. The Stark's ward was a lonesome one, and Catelyn had all but given up hope that he and Robb would bond, to be brothers more than they were housemates.

Catelyn left the men to it, and walked down to the godswood, where she could pray. She lit a candle for the Mother Above, and prayed as she always did for safety. She lit another for the Crone, begging her for wisdom, another for the Maid, for Sansa and Arya's safety as young girls. She was about to light one for the Warrior, to grant them all strength and courage, when she heard a mysterious sound, like some sort of groaning. Catelyn turned, surprised, and stopped when she saw a large blue wooden box appear in the trees, fading up like some sort of ghost.

A panel on the side of the box opened, and a tall skinny man wearing strange skins exited. He was thinner than a rake, and just as tall. His hair was wild and untamed, and he had eyes of deep brown. A young dark skinned girl came out after he did; wearing strange clothes for a one of her sex and age. She wore a tight red leather jerkin and blue trousers of a material that Catelyn had not seen before. She shivered

"Not exactly Brighton is it?" she asked in a strange accent, definitely not one of a Northman.

The man wrinkled his nose, looking around cautiously. "No. Don't think so. Definitely no forests in Brighton."

"Where are we?"

"I can confidently say that I have no idea." he answered, "Why don't we ask this local woman?"

Catelyn jumped as he bounded over to her, grinning like a madman, "Hi there!" he hallooed, "I'm the Doctor, this is my, er," he looked her up and down, as if taking her in, "my ward. We were wondering where exactly we are?"

Catelyn stood silent for a long moment, before composing herself, "My apologies good ser, you are in Winterfell."

The man who called himself the 'Doctor' nodded slowly, "Where's that?"

Catelyn was stunned, "You must be jesting!" when he didn't say anything, she carried on, "You are in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros, under King Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King on the Iron Throne. And who are you? And whence does your lady ward come from?"

The Doctor was silent for only a second, "Sorry, I should have introduced myself earlier. I am Lord Doctor of the House of Lungbarrow. This is Lady Martha Jones of Freedonia, come on a visit to the west of the world."

Catelyn frowned, "I have never heard of Freedonia, nor of House Lungbarrow. Whilst it is evident that your ward is from the Summer Isles, which part of Westeros do _you_ come from, ser?"

The Doctor scrunched up his nose, "I'm not from Westeros. I come from the far, far east, a land called Gallifrey, long since lost to fire and war."

Catelyn felt oddly touched by the man's words, and, despite not really understanding his words, found herself saying, "Then the hospitality of Winterfell is yours, Ser Doctor. I am Lady Catelyn Stark, born to Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun. My husband is Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell. Our castle is yours until you are well rested, Ser."

He shook his head, "Just the Doctor. I don't like to be called 'Ser'."

Catelyn nodded, and led them through the godswood back to the keep. "We shall find some clothes for your ward to wear, and my husband will see to you in his solar alone, Doctor."

The Doctor bowed, and motioned for Martha to do so as well. She did, albeit awkwardly, and the trio walked into the keep. Catelyn sent the girl off to see if any of her own dresses would suffice, and took the Doctor to Ned's solar. There, she bade him wait until she returned with her husband.

Catelyn was not sure how Ned would react to these strangers. She prayed that the Doctor would be honest with him. He seemed a nice enough man; and it would be a shame if he was some sort of oath breaker, what with the King arriving the next day. She prayed it would not come to that.

"Ned," she said quietly when she saw him, "there is a man to see you."

"Eh? Who is he?"

Catelyn glanced at her hands, "I'm not all that sure. He seemed to be some sort of traveller, with a ward from the Summer Isles. He would not tell me his name, but I thought it rude to turn him away."

Ned smiled thinly, "I'd best see to him then, hadn't I?"

Catelyn nodded, "I will come with you."

When they reached Ned's solar, they saw the Doctor poring over a thick book. He must have missed most of it, because he was at least three-quarters through it. He wore strange things on his face; black stone and panelled glass, enlarging his eyes. He had discarded his long brown jacket, dumping it on the floor. Catelyn coughed, and the Doctor looked up.

"Ah," he said, taking off his eyewear, "just catching up on the recent history of Westeros."

Ned frowned, "That book details the events of the last four hundred years."

"Like I said; recent history." The Doctor bounced over to shake Eddard's hand, grinning again, "Hello, you must be Lord Eddard, your wife mentioned you. So did the book. Well, more your family, I'd just read about your grandfather. Excellent man, by the way, shame about his wife, but these things happen."

Catelyn glanced at her husband. His face was a picture of shock. He cut off the Doctor's ramblings suddenly and sharply, "Whence did you come from?"

The Doctor pulled a face, "It's a long and complicated story."

"I'm not going anywhere."

The Doctor held his silence for a long moment, before sitting down, "I come from very far away from Westeros. Further even than the Lands of the Long Summer. I travel, most of the time, with my ward. Actually, she's more like my friend now, but anyway. I've come a very long way, and, personally, I'd like to spend a little while here, rest awhile, as it were."

"You say you came from the east, yet you speak the Common Tongue. How is that?"

"I'm good at languages." the Doctor replied shortly.

"To travel that far… you must be great Lords in your land."

For a moment Catelyn thought she saw something flicker in the newcomer's eyes, something dark and dangerous, something like what she saw in Ned on occasion. But then it was gone, "Yeah. We – we were so mighty our neighbouring lands liked to call us the Lords of Time itself. But that all changed."

Ned leant forward, "What happened?"

The Doctor evaded the question with ease, "Enough about me, what about you, big fella? What's the newest gossip of the Seven Kingdoms? Or rather, what _used_ to be the Seven Kingdoms. Hasn't been like that for a very long time."

"I asked you a question."

The Doctor ignored him, prattling on as ever, "What's this King of yours like, eh? Robert Baratheon, I gotta say, it rolls of of the tongue quite nicely. Wouldn't say the same of his brother though, Stannis. Sounds quite grouchy. Old Big Ears and he would have gotten on marvellously."

Catelyn decided to speak for her husband in this case, "Doctor, it seems the more you say, the less Ned and I understand."

"Wouldn't be the first time that's happened to me," the Doctor shrugged, "Anyway, we'll be out of your hair in a few days, I'm gonna go and see what this Wall is all about."

Catelyn looked at Eddard. He seemed to be struggling between wanting to hit this man and wanting to stay silent. For her part, Catelyn had never met someone who was so blasé on authority. Foreigner or no, this man should address Ned by his proper title, not 'big fella.'

Finally, Ned spoke, "At least stay this night, Doctor. We would be glad of some new company, Bran more than most."

The Doctor grinned, "Well, that's that sorted then. Would you mind?"

He indicated the book. Ned shook his head, and the Doctor picked it up. Catelyn walked after him, "I'll take you to your chambers, Doctor. Your ward will be there as well."

They only needed to walk a short way before they reached them. Inside, Martha was garbed in one of Catelyn's older dresses, long and green, with a gold chain-like pattern on the sleeves. The Doctor grinned, and the two embraced. _Ward, Doctor? Or something more?_ The Doctor broke the embrace quickly though, and sat down on the bed to read his book.

"I shall tell our cook to prepare a meal for you two. Will you dine with us?" Catelyn asked, unsure what she wanted the answer to be.

"We'd love to," the young woman spoke in place of the Doctor, for once. "The woman who was finding the clothes was telling me about your children. They sounded great."

Catelyn smiled modestly, "I think that, whilst you look a proper lady, you are not one at heart."

Martha rolled her ebony eyes, "_Definitely_ not."

Catelyn smiled good-naturedly, disguising her disquiet. She still did not know what to make of these two strangers, but she sensed that Martha was a good person. The Doctor too, only he talked too much for Catelyn's liking. Ned's too, if the signs were to be believed.

"I think that Arya will like you, Lady Martha."

"Please don't call me Lady. Martha's enough thanks."

Catelyn nodded, "Then Martha it is. You'll have a harder time convincing everyone else of that though. We dine at evenfall."

"How long is that from now?" the Doctor asked from the bed.

"About three hours, Doctor." Catelyn answered graciously.

He nodded, and turned another page in his book. Suddenly a loud war horn sounded from the walls. The Doctor sprang out of bed, and ran downstairs. It was all Martha and Catelyn could do to keep up with him. He dashed out into the yard, and they saw Lord Eddard getting his horse ready. Bran, Robb, Theon Greyjoy and Jon Snow, Ned's bastard by a mysterious woman, were also horsing, as were half a dozen of Ned's men. Catelyn noticed another horse, an old palfrey, was standing alone with no rider. Catelyn had only to look in Ned's eyes to see who it was for.

"What is it? What's going on?" Martha asked, worry in her tone. The Doctor stood stock still, finally speechless.

Eddard's voice was soft yet firm, "Deserters from the Wall, Lady Jones. Get on your horse, Doctor. You'll want to know how justice is done in the North."


	2. Chapter 2

EDDARD

As they rode out of Winterfell, Eddard studied this Doctor. He had the look of a lord about him, no doubt on that, and a soldier. Ned had spent enough time at the head of an army to recognise another commander when he saw one. Other than that, he was unsure about the man. He would surely be able to learn more about him from what was to come.

His sons and ward rode behind him. Robb, almost a man grown, looked almost regal in his furs and boiled leather. Jon Snow, the black spot on Ned's honour, was garbed in a similar manner, albeit a darker one. Bran's cloak was trimmed with pure white fur, and he wore no boiled leather. Instead he was garbed in a grey jerkin. Theon Greyjoy wore a black jerkin, with the golden Kraken of his House emblazoned above his heart. Beside him rode Ser Rodrik Cassell, the castellan of Winterfell. He carried Ice, the Stark family great-sword, forged thousands of years ago from Valyrian steel.

At the back, the Doctor kept a steady hold on his ancient garron. Ned had wanted something better for the man, but this was all that was available at short notice.

They rode for what seemed like days. Ned always felt this way when going to an execution. Especially when it was one he would perform. When they came upon the deserter, he screamed and ran. Horses thundered around him, and Ser Rodrik dismounted, forcing him down. Ned noticed Bran talking with Jon. Both had dismounted.

Ned climbed off of his horse, and strode towards Ser Rodrik, holding out his hand for Ice. The Doctor strode up behind him, brown coat billowing in the wind. His eyes were hard as steel, and Eddard stopped, looking at him, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"What has he done? What is this man's crime?"

Ned kept his voice smooth, "He deserted from the Wall. The oath is binding; only death may revoke it."

"Please," the man shrieked from the ground, "Please spare me, Lord Eddard."

"Can't you see he's terrified?" the Doctor snapped.

"He broke his oath," Ned replied simply, "The laws are known, Doctor. I must do the King's Justice."

The Doctor looked as though to say something more, but he kept his mouth closed. Good. Eddard unsheathed Ice, and held it to the ground, bowing his head, ready to say the words. He had known them almost all his life; he learned them as a boy of eight, the first time he saw his father Rickard execute a man. Bran was eight now, he deserved to see.

"It is my duty, as Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell," he whispered, so only the oath-breaker could hear, "to execute you for deserting your post at the Night's Watch. The King's Justice be done."

Eddard raised Ice above his head, and swung it down in one clean stroke. The man's head parted from his body like it was never joined, and fell with a dull _thunk_. Eddard tried not to notice that Bran wasn't looking, but when he turned, he saw the Doctor glaring at him.

"You have an objection Ser?"

"You call that justice?" the Doctor snarled, "The poor man was terrified, running for his life."

"Aye," Theon said, walking up beside him, "running from the Watch, from us."

"No, something far, far worse." The Doctor's voice was glacial in that moment, "No man on a horse could scare someone like that."

"Any trouble beyond the Wall is for the Night's Watch, not us." Ned assured the Doctor.

"And what if the Watch fails, Lord Stark? Who will defend the realm against what this man feared?"

As they rode back, Ned tried not to dwell on the Doctor's words. The Wall had stood for eight thousand years, and it would stand for eight thousand more. He also thought back to what he had told Bran, about a man having to serve his own justice. _If I believe that, why do I do the King's justice for him?_ Ned shook his head, trying to banish these thoughts. His musings were interrupted by a shout from one of his men.

The man led them down a gully, where a corpse of a huge wolf lay. Blood dripped from its burst belly, and its intestines were leaking.

"Tis a mighty beast, my Lord." Rodrik said, almost reverently.

"Who cares?" Theon asked, "There's hundreds of wolf corpses in these woods, brought down by rogues and Karstarks."

"That's no wolf, Theon." The Doctor replied solemnly. Ned still had trouble riddling out this man. He who could be jovial at one minute, then dour as a corpse the next. Which was his true face?

"He's right." Bran shouted, "That's a direwolf."

Rodrik laughed good-naturedly, "There's no direwolves south of the Wall, Bran. Not anymore."

"But look at the _size_ of it!"

Ned looked at it, and saw it too. "The boy speaks the truth," he said.

The group of men then noticed four small direwolf pups tugging on their mother's teats, not realising that she was dead. A fifth sat apart from the others, near the stream.

"Five," the Doctor said thoughtfully.

"Aye, five." Jon said, "One for each of your trueborn children, Lord Stark. The direwolf is on your banner, is it not?"

Ned nodded, chuckling, "Perhaps it is a sign from the old gods. Gather them up."

The other men set about doing as he asked. Once the five direwolves were packed up, the group started heading back for Winterfell. Ned noticed the Doctor and Jon hanging back from the group. The Doctor was talking to Ned's bastard son, and Jon dismounted, walking back to the dead direwolf. Theon rode up to them, a cruel smile on his lips.

"Wishing to fuck a direwolf corpse are you Snow?"

The Doctor shot him an angry look, and opened his mouth, but Jon stood up with a ball of white fur in his hand before the newcomer could speak, "Five direwolves for five Stark children, Greyjoy. What should become of the sixth pup?"

Theon shrugged indifferently, "Its albino. It should probably freeze to death out here, else be eaten by bears."

Jon Snow's voice was quiet, and Ned was suddenly reminded of himself, "No, Theon. The bastard wolf is mine."

With that, he mounted and galloped off. Theon huffed and followed him, leaving the Doctor and Ned alone at the back of the convoy. The Doctor rode up to Ned, a small smirk on his face.

"What?" Ned demanded.

"Why do you keep him around?"

"Who, Theon? I have to –"

"No, not him." the Doctor sighed, "_Jon_. Your wife evidently doesn't like him, and there aren't many in Westeros who acknowledge their bastards, let alone allow them to live in their houses. Why do you do it?"

"Sixteen years ago, we were at war. Many strange things happen, and I suddenly had another son. I couldn't leave him. It is dishonourable to father a bastard, yes, but it is worse to leave a child to die. Especially if that child is your own blood." Ned answered reluctantly.

The Doctor nodded slowly. He didn't speak to Ned again the whole way back to Winterfell. Instead, he rode up ahead and was deeply engrossed in a conversation with Bran. For his part, Eddard rode up to speak to his two other sons. When he saw the Lord of Winterfell coming, Theon spurred his horse to ride to the top of the column, leaving the Stark men behind.

Ned took a moment to really appreciate the differences in his eldest sons. Robb was lean and light, his blue eyes always full of mirth. His hair was auburn, like Cat's, and Ned was suddenly reminded of Edmure Tully, his wife's brother and heir to Riverrun. They'd met once, at his and Cat's wedding, and Ned had gotten on well with the younger man. Jon, however, looked more like Ned every day. He was bulky like his father, with dark brown hair and sharp grey eyes. He looked constantly worried, unlike his half-brother, and was practised with his sword far more often than any of his brothers.

"Robb, Jon."

"Father." Robb replied. Jon merely nodded.

"The King will arrive at noon tomorrow. Best make sure your sisters are prepared."

The boys nodded. _Nearly men_. Ned thought suddenly. It was true. Both were fifteen, near sixteen.

"Will the little prince be with them?" Robb asked grinning, "I've heard he thinks he's as good with a sword as his father."

Ned frowned, "King Robert fights with a war-hammer."

"Exactly."

Ned shook his head, and turned to Jon, "Jon –"

"Yes, father," the bastard replied wearily, "I understand that Lady Catelyn doesn't want me to sit with your children. I will sup with Uncle Benjen instead. I do not mind."

Ned nodded, and then they were at Winterfell. The great walls of the castle swallowed them up, and they arrived in the courtyard. Catelyn was still standing there with Lady Martha, who looked about as aggravated as the Doctor had earlier.

For his part, the mysterious man swung off of his horse like a man born to do so, and walked briskly up to his ward. He murmured something into her ear that Ned couldn't hear, and the dark skinned woman looked at Eddard, then quickly away. The Doctor gave Ned a look that could freeze a Dornishman, and then strode away into the castle.

Supper that night was a quiet affair, the cooks busy preparing for the feast the next night. They ate roast duck, and the Doctor talked animatedly with everyone. Martha sat more quietly, but was deep in conversation with Arya by the end of the meal, which seemed to disappoint Sansa, the eldest Stark daughter. Ned himself spent most of the meal discussing preparations for tomorrow with Maester Luwin and Cat.

"So where _are_ you and Lady Martha from, Doctor?" Bran asked as they finished their meat.

The Doctor stretched out on the chair, smiling, "Oh, here and there. A man is the sum of his memories, Bran. Never forget that."

The younger Stark boy pulled a face, "What does _that_ mean?"

"It means that everyone is from wherever they have been." the Doctor replied genially.

"He means where were you born?" Arya butted in, "Where did you come from?"

Then the Doctor had this sad look in his eye, and he let Martha tell the youngsters what he had told Ned and Catelyn earlier that day. Ned had to say, his children were good listeners. When the meal was over, Bran begged the Doctor to tell them some of the stories of his adventures. And then the strange man's smile was back. He immediately launched into his adventures in a land called 'Neyork' and fighting off a group of creatures called Daleks. When he'd finished that story, he began talking of witches and warlocks, of gods and demons, of things beyond Ned's belief. The Doctor's storytelling lasted long into the night, and even Ned became so engrossed he forgot that they had to be up to greet the King tomorrow.

Ned bade his children go up to bed, and Catelyn got up as well. Seeing that the Doctor had had little to drink during the evening, he bade the cook get them both a horn. The Lady Martha left soon after that as well, complaining of a bad head.

When the ale arrived, the Doctor graciously took a sip, "So, Eddard. You don't mind if I call you Eddard, do you?"

Ned shrugged, "Lords refer to each other as equals, Doctor."

"I'm no Lord."

"Now there's a lie," Eddard leant forward, looking the Doctor directly in those dark brown eyes. "You're the lordliest individual I've ever met, and I've had the pleasure of breaking bread with Mace Tyrell."

"Not a compliment, I'm sure." the Doctor replied smoothly. "I was a lord, once. But what's a lord with no lands, Lord Stark? Who is he then?"

"He is still a lord, raised by his King. He must then reclaim his lands."

"And what if those lands are all gone, far beyond his reach?" the Doctor sighed, taking another sip of ale.

"When was your war, Doctor?"

"My what?"

"Your war. It's on your face, clear as day. Your eyes have known bloodshed, your voice command, your heart sorrow." Ned spoke softly, as if to hide this conversation from even the gods.

"Long ago and far away. I'm not that person anymore."

The Doctor stood up abruptly, and bade Ned goodnight. Ned sat in silence for a few hours, watching the last embers of the fire die. Then he too got up and got into bed.


End file.
